


Dear Diary

by Honorable_mention



Series: Rememorizing [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Clowns, Diary/Journal, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Hospitals, Injury, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27613180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honorable_mention/pseuds/Honorable_mention
Summary: Hey Diary,Is it weird to say your friend has really nice legs?————A series of journal entries written by one Eddie Kaspbrak as he recovers from an unfortunate clown-related stabbing
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Myra Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Rememorizing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943737
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Do you know how stupid I feel writing this? It’s like I’m fucking twelve or something, scribbling my feelings down with crayon. 

I don’t even know why I’m writing in this thing. It’s gaudy as shit, all sparkly and ruffled. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a picture of a princess behind the sequins. 

Who in their right mind buys this sort of junk? Richie, I guess. The guy’s not known for his subtlety, but even this is obnoxious. He claims he bought it at the hospital gift shop, but I don’t believe him. He probably went out to a joke store and asked for the dumbest journal they had. At least his mom had a half decent pen in her purse, though I would have preferred something that wasn’t bright red. 

What am I even supposed to write in a journal? I don’t have anything to say. I’m a middle aged risk analyst. No shocking revelations to be had here, folks, put this book down while you can.

Ugh, my whole body hurts. Fuck the clown.

Dear Diary,

I need to find a better phrase then “Dear Diary”. Something that feels more me, less pubescent. 

Hey fucker,

Myra always says I should curse less, but this greeting felt more appropriate. 

I can’t stand this hospital. Derry Memorial. Such a depressing name. Like, we’re all in a hospital already, we don’t need the extra reminder of our own mortality.

On top of that this while building is disgusting. It’s a festering pile of infection, ripe with maggots and flesh-eating bacteria. Last time the nurse was in here she barely washed her hands, just sort of ran them under the water. No scrubbing! I can’t believe the standards. How could you wake up every morning knowing you keep that level of hygiene?

I’ll have to ask Richie.

But on to something else. It’s not good to dwell on things like everyone else’s terrible standards. I should stop, think about something else.

I’m glad my friends are here. Even if I forgot about them for a good two decades and a half. And Myra’s here. I always miss her when she’s gone. She’s so good at figuring out what I need.

I can just imagine the germs running across that nurse’s pale hands. The surface of her latex gloves.

Today Richie sat next to my bed for an hour and showed me different pictures of cats. He even added commentary about their inner thoughts. I should have been annoyed with him.

Hey fucker,

Is it weird to say your friend has really nice legs? 

Hey asshole,

Today Myra was talking about moving back home, how we’d rearrange our closet to fit the new gear I need for the orgy of pain that is the space where my organs once were. She was so happy to change everything. To make it work. But somewhere through the conversation I realized I hadn’t imagined going back home. Something about being home, here in Derry, it’s made me feel so terrified of living with her. How ridiculous is that? How pathetic? I’m scared to live with my own wife.

It’s not that I don’t love her. I do. God I’ve dedicated so many years to her, and whenever I make her smile I feel like I’ve done something good. But it’s a chore at the same time. 

And I know, it’s stupid. She’s my wife, we’ve been married for years. We chose to weld our lives together. 

We work well as a team, but there’s this fear in the back of my mind. It’s been eating me up like a parasite, like a tapeworm. What if I’m holding her back? Maybe she’s spent so much time taking care of me that she’s never gotten the chance to find out what she really wants to do with her life. What could she have done without me?

But I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have Myra. She’s my life. She’s my everything. I can’t imagine living without her, but I also can’t imagine moving back in together.

Is that selfish? That she’s willing to move her whole life around, and I can’t even tell her that I don’t want to live with her anymore?

I do though. I want to live with her, I want to be with her and I want to live with her. Right?

I’ll get back to it later. Right now I need to focus on getting my digestive system back in working order. I am not excited to meet with that doctor.

Dear fuckface,

Richie’s opinions are bad.

I can’t believe that the idiot thinks that your porn preferences say anything about you as a person. People just like what they like. Doesn’t matter if you rub one out while watching a couple of objectively hot men. You can still be straight.

Asshole doesn’t know a single thing he talks about.

Dear Detested Companion,

I need to talk to Myra. Just get it over with, rip off the bandaid, figure our shit out. Everybody else already left. They had lives, which is fair. I’d be back home if I could. Well maybe not back home, but out of this disgusting hospital. 

It’s just me and Myra. And Richie. I don’t think I could get him to leave if I tried.

I should just talk to Myra.

Dear Shithead,

Do I want Richie gone?

I should want him gone.

I should want to be alone with my wife.

Why the fuck do I not want him to go away?

Hola, Pieza de Mierda,

Hey, finally putting those three years of high school Spanish to good use.

I talked to Myra today. I don’t know how I feel about it.

She told me that she got it, that I wouldn’t want to move back to our old apartment like before. Like nothing happened. Like I wasn’t impaled. 

But I couldn’t get her to understand. I don’t want a new apartment, I want a new life. 

I should just tell her that, but I know she’s, well...

Ugh, this is so hard, it’s just, you know…

Maybe,

No,

I think it’s just that I don’t know anything about her. Honestly. Spending these last few weeks with Richie, they’ve made me think. It’s been years since we’ve spoken and yet I still remember what he was like when we were kids. The stupid jokes he’d tell, the way he’d move his face and awkward arms, the way the sun reflected off his hair at the height of winter.

Is it bad that I like those memories more than my years with Myra?

It is. A relationship is sacrifice, and I need to get over whatever hang up I’m developing. It isn’t healthy.

Dear Whatever,

Today Richie tried to balance a flower vase on his head and accidentally cut himself. Luckily we were already in the hospital so the stitches were quick to arrive, but it’s going to be such a hassle figuring out our health insurance.

A Brief Follow-up,

I just realized I don’t need to deal with his health insurance. Apparently, in his words, he’s a “grown man” who got health insurance in his thirties.

Buddy,

Is it gay to tell your friend he has beautiful eyes and a face that’s more attractive than it has any right to be?

Dear Diary,

Myra brought up divorce today. I didn’t realize that was something she was considering, but now that she says it I can’t help but think that she’s right.

Have I ever been happy with her? I’ve definitely been content, but I don’t think I’ve ever been happy. She’s nice enough, but I think I was waiting for something to break. I think I needed an excuse to move on.

She agreed we’d keep things amicable. She’ll get the apartment, free of any places to keep my cane and my new medications.

I hope she’s happy. I hope I’m happy.

I need a place to stay. I think I’ll ask Richie.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Quarantine has really zapped all energy I have for life, but I decided to try something a little different to try to get back into writing.
> 
> I hope y’all like it! :))


End file.
